


Snuggles Work

by justspn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Sick!Dean Caring!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 03:23:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2566496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justspn/pseuds/justspn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean gets the flu, Sam isn't sure how he'll react to Sam's presence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snuggles Work

Dean jerked awake, pulling his knife out from under his pillow as he sat up.  
“Easy, it’s just me.” Sam said placing his hand over Dean’s, pushing the knife away from his chest. “It’s time to hit the road. Why are you still asleep? We need to leave now if we want to get to Bobby’s by this afternoon.” Dean shook his head and lowered his hand.  
“Right. Well, I’m up now so let’s get going. You want to pack the car while I jump through the shower?” Dean asked rubbing his eyes.  
“Sure.” Sam said sounding hesitant. “You okay?” Dean nodded.  
“Fine Sammy. Just let me wake up some before you start interrogating me. Jeez.” He stood up and padded into the small motel bathroom. He turned the hot water all the way on in the shower and waited for it to heat up. He rubbed his head and took a deep breath. To be honest, he wasn’t feeling so great. His throat felt scratchy and he had a headache that wouldn’t stop nagging him. The night before, he thought he could sleep it off, but it only ramped up its intensity during the night. Dean let the pounding of the hot water relax his achy muscles and relieve some of the pressure building in his head. He sighed. It was going to be a long day.

The drive to Bobby’s took longer than usual, and the boys pulled into the driveway just as the last of the sun’s rays were leaving the sky. Dean pushed the car into park and leaned his head back on the bench seat. His head was pounding, making it hard for him to think straight.  
“Dean? You good?” Sam asked, his hand resting on the door handle. Dean straightened, sniffling.  
“Yeah, yeah. Just tired.” He said wiping his nose on his coat sleeve. He took a deep breath and got out of the Impala. Sam walked over to the trunk and grabbed their duffle bags, tossing Dean’s to him. He caught it heavily, almost dropping it. Sam noticed Dean’s sluggish behavior but didn’t say anything. He followed Dean up to Bobby’s front door and into the living room. Bobby was sitting at his desk pouring over the stack of books in front of him.  
“Hey Bobby.” Sam said plopping down on the couch. Dean grunted a hello before heading up the stairs to the room Bobby had made the boy’s after their many visits in the past.  
“Who put a bee in his panties?” Bobby asked, looking back at Sam. He shrugged and ran his hands through his hair.  
“He’s been acting strange since last night. I think he’s coming down with something.”  
“I guess we’ll find out when he wakes up.” Bobby sighed.

Dean tossed his duffle bag on the floor next to his bed before kicking off his boots and collapsing on the bed. He sighed and rolled over, pulling the blankets up over himself as he went. He sniffled miserably, half hoping that Sam would come up and check in on him. He wouldn’t ask for help, but if it came he wouldn’t push it away. 

He could handle most things better than most men, pushing everything down inside and burying it. But being sick was different. When he was sick, which didn’t happen very often, all he wanted to do was snuggle with someone. Sammy, Dad, even Mom way back when. Sam said when he was sick he was like a clingy four year old, whining about everything until he got what he wanted. He coughed into his pillow and closed his eyes, grateful when sleep pulled him under.

“Dean, wake up.” Sam said urgently, shaking Dean’s shoulders. Dean opened his eyes and realized in a panic that he couldn’t breathe. “Sit up dude, before you choke on your own snot.” Sam said pulling Dean up to lean against the headboard. Dean coughed into his elbow harshly until he had gotten enough mucus out of his lungs to breathe again.  
“Thanks Sammy.” Dean rasped when Sam handed him a glass of water. He took a sip and closed his eyes, shivering.  
“You good?” Sam asked, pulling the blanket up to Dean’s chest. Dean nodded slowly, keeping his eyes shut. If he opened them, he was pretty sure the room would be spinning out of control. Dean felt Sam’s hand rest on his forehead and he leaned into the touch, childlike. Sam smiled before pulling away. “I’m going to get the thermometer and some Tylenol. Are you going to be okay here?” Dean nodded again.  
“Is he sick?” Bobby asked when Sam left their bedroom. Sam nodded and went into the bathroom down the hall.  
“Fever I’m guessing, congested, probably a sore throat. His cough woke me up. Sounds nasty.” Sam told him grabbing the thermometer and pill bottle from the drawer.  
“Well isn’t that just wonderful.” Bobby puckered. “Need anything?”  
“No. I’ve got it. Thanks though.” Sam said, smiling generously at the older man.  
“Well, you know where I’ll be. Night.” Bobby said turning to go into his bedroom.  
“Night.” Sam called after him, walking into his room. Dean was where Sam had left him. The blanket had slipped down off Dean’s chest, and Sam could see the tremors running through his body. He sighed and went over to Dean, shaking him slightly to wake him up. “Here, take your temperature.” Sam said pushing the thermometer into Dean’s mouth. Dean opened his eyes and Sam could see how crappy he actually felt.   
The thermometer beeped and Sam read the numbers, his eyebrows knitting together.   
“What is it?” Dean croaked. He could tell by the look on Sam’s face that it was pretty high. He honestly wasn’t surprised. He felt like he’d been hit by a truck, twice.   
“102.8.” Sam answered. “Take some Tylenol and try to go back to sleep. I’ll wake you later and give you more.” Sam told him, handing Dean a few pills and the glass of water. “Other than the fever, how are you?” Sam asked. Dean finished swallowing the pills, a hard task with a sore throat, and sniffled.   
“You can shoot me anytime.” Dean joked. Sam didn’t approve, and gave him a stern look. “Sore throat, killer headache, body aches, stuffy nose, dizzy.”   
“Nauseous?” Sam asked. He was pretty sure Dean was coming down with the flu. If he was nauseous, it would confirm his suspicions.   
Dean shrugged. “Not right now. But my stomach’s not happy, that’s for sure.” he told Sam noticing how gurgily his insides felt. Sam nodded and moved the small trash can next to Dean’s bed.   
“Probably the flu. Sorry dude. Sucks to be you.” Sam smirked. “Can you get back to sleep?” Dean nodded but didn’t move. “What’s wrong?” Sam asked. Dean had a pouty look on his face, almost like he was actually going to cry.   
“Can I have your hoodie?” Dean asked, his voice cracking. Sam smiled and nodded, digging through his duffle to find the ratty gray sweatshirt. He pulled it out and tugged it down over Dean’s head, leaving the hood up the way Dean liked it. The sleeves hung down over Dean’s hands making him look young again. Dean smiled gratefully and slid down the headboard until he was curled up comfortably in the small twin-sized bed. Sam pulled the blankets up over Dean’s shoulders and turned out the light before crawling into his own bed. 

 

“Sammy,” Dean croaked, sitting up. He leaned over the side of the bed searching for the trash can that Sam had placed near him. He hoped it was under his mouth when the bile rose up in his throat, feeling like his throat was being ripped to shreds.   
“Sammy.” He said again between retches. He felt a pair of hands on him, one on his chest holding him firmly on the bed, and the other rubbing circles on his back.   
“You’re okay, you’re okay.” Sam shushed, pulling Dean up into a sitting position when he was done throwing up. He reached over to the lamp that sat on the table between their beds. “Here comes the light.” Sam warned before switching it on. Dean’s eyes were pinched shut and his nose was running down his chin. Sam sighed and went into the bathroom to get him a warm washcloth. When he went back into the room Dean was leaning over the side of the bed again, dry heaving. Sam pulled both him and the trash can up so Dean was sitting up again, leaning against the headboard.   
“You good?” Sam asked when it seemed like Dean’s stomach had settled. Dean nodded and opened his eyes. His face was pale and his eyes were glazed over. Sam lifted his hand and placed it gently on Dean’s forehead. Dean leaned into the touch, and Sam wasn’t surprised at the heat he felt under his fingertips.   
“Try to drink some water, okay?” Sams said holding up a glass from the nightstand. Dean shook his head.   
“Not yet. It won’t stay down.” he grimaced. Sam sighed.   
“You need to drink.”   
“I will, just give me a minute.” Dean whispered, leaning his head back against the wall in defeat. Sam took the cloth he was holding and wiped it across Dean’s face, washing away the stickiness of sickness.   
“You gonna be all right if I go back to bed?” Sam asked. He knew that sometimes when his brother was sick he didn’t want anyone to see him sick because he thought they would see him as weak. He also knew sometimes Dean could be a snuggle bug when he was sick.   
“Will you sleep over here? Just until I fall asleep? Please?” Dean asked in a voice that was impossible to resist. Add the voice to the pathetic look on his face, Sam couldn’t say no.   
“Yeah, sure. Move over.” Sam said softly, crawling under the blankets with his brother. He reached over and clicked off the light before settling down on his back. “Goodnight Dean.”   
“NIght Sammy.” Dean whispered. He felt Dean move in close to him before resting his head on Sam’s chest. Sam smiled to himself and drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first fic, feedback would be loverly. I tried to keep them in character, but I'm not sure I did so great at that part. Let me know what you think.


End file.
